7:24 a.m. - September 07, 2004
I dreamed of Seattle last night, of the day when Tasha's mother had come to visit from Florida and we took her to the market to watch the fish tossing and have scones. I had stepped away for a bit to get some jam and stood out on the back staircase looking at the Olympic Mountains across the sound on a crisp, cold blue day. I stood there long enough for Tasha and her mom to come looking and all three of us stood in the cold looking over the water. In the dream I recalled how cold it was on my face, how my skin tightened and tingled, and how it was glorious. The little pieces of glory are lacking in my life right now unless I expand gloriousness to include grinding traffic and the squeal of brakes.
I'm in a holding pattern flying in circles, eyes fixed on some unknown point that when I land will surely look just like the place I left. This distresses me only because I feel I should be somewhere different, have changed, grown up more.